


Cherry Wine

by orionstarlight



Series: Birthday Boy [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Birthday Sex, Blowjobs, Drinking, M/M, Surprises, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:27:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28988499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orionstarlight/pseuds/orionstarlight
Summary: The moment he steps into the bedroom he’s pulled in by the front of his shirt into a kiss so strong it could bruise, Rin apparently getting more sober by the second.“How long have ya been playin’ me?” Rin smiles against the kiss, like he’s won at life.“You left me and ‘Tsumu alone. Bad call.”Happy Birthday Suna. Enjoy the Birthday Sex.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Series: Birthday Boy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2126478
Comments: 4
Kudos: 120
Collections: SunaOsa





	Cherry Wine

**Author's Note:**

> This series of birthday ficlets for Suna will have two parts total, all to be read separately, and they'll be published by the end of the week, so be sure to tune back in ;)

* * *

“‘m not fuckin’ drunk, ‘Samu,” mumbles Rin, crossing over the threshold of their apartment with his boyfriend’s help, trying to convince himself that the room cannot possibly be spinning as much as he thinks it is.

“Yer pissed, Rin. Only thing savin’ ya now is a shower.”

“Ugh, yer not gonna spray me with cold water like Shinsuke-san would, are you?”

It’s definitely a tempting thought that he is very much struggling _not_ to execute, but he loves him, and it’s his birthday, so he’ll refrain this time around. Still, it’s better than he could have hoped for, and at least he’s still somewhat communicative.

It’s not entirely a bad thing, though. The best part about Rin getting this drunk definitely has to be the fact that the last of his Tokyo accent disappears and the wonderful Kansai dialect makes an appearance.

“Nah, but ya still need a shower. Ya reek of tequila.”

Rin shrugs Osamu off of him when he gets to the bathroom door. “‘s not my fuckin’ fault. Fuckin’ Kiki an’ his stupid stomach. ‘Tsumu the b’tter twin my arse.”

He also gets insanely competitive and prideful, which is always a bonus.

“Okay, Rin. But that doesn’t change the fact that ya reek.” He can’t fight off his boyfriend’s arms as he helps him take his clothes off, and the water in the shower turns on, thudding louder than he suspected it would.

“No. No I smell like daisies an’ lemons an’ — uh — an’ like a hot piece of ass, an’ we really, _really_ wanna go straight t' sleep right now.”

Osamu chuckles at the fact that Rin really thinks he’s going to let him get into bed with him when he’s that sweaty and wrangles his trousers and boxers off his legs as Rin holds onto him for dear life.

“Yer lucky I got ya out of practise t’morrow, otherwise ya’d be dead on that court. Probably get ten balls t’ the face at least.”

“Mm, that’s ‘cause yer the best.” Rin’s lips latch onto his throat but barely manage to stay there. “Wash me?”

It’s not like he has much of a choice given that he’s literally the only reason Rin is still standing, so he quickly gets undressed himself and pulls him under the spray of lukewarm water carefully. Any hotter and he would fall asleep in seconds.

It’s not a hard task in reality. Or, it usually isn’t, but apart from competitive and prideful, Rin turns affectionate. Not more than Osamu does when he’s drunk, but enough that it’s fewer teasing touches and more _no foreplay, sex now_.

He doesn’t look pleased at all when Osamu has to stop Rin from putting his fingers in his mouth, a pout forming like he’s just taken a bottle from a baby. When he shakes his head no, the pout turns into a face of challenge and without his usual strength, he doesn’t manage to push Osamu against the tiles like he was hoping to.

No, instead, he’s tugged back out, wrapped firmly in a towel so he can’t make grabby hands at Osamu’s body, and taken to the bedroom, where he’s left while his boyfriend searches for aspirin and water.

He’s made to drink to sort out the mixture of alcohol in his stomach, even if he wants to refuse, even if it does make him feel better and his head starts to clear from whatever mess it was in before.

Osamu leaves him to get dressed while he goes and puts their clothes in the laundry basket, but Rin only manages a t-shirt before he’s bouncing out of the bedroom and into the kitchen because he’s hungry and they always have the best leftovers in the fridge.

He’s sitting at the kitchen island eating cold rice and holding three carrot sticks in his other hand when Osamu walks in and laughs at his dishevelled appearance, shaking his head.

“C’mon. Ya should be in bed, not eatin’ with yer whole arse hangin’ out.”

Rin sticks his tongue out. “Any other day and ya'd be beggin’ t’ eat this arse.”

Competitive, prideful, affectionate, and crass. Drunk Rin is an enigma Osamu knows he’s going to spend a lifetime unravelling.

“Okay, enough or I won’t make the afternoon shift t’morrow,” says Osamu, prying the food from Rin’s hands and pulling him out of the chair. He’s about to pick him up and carry him when he sees the way he’s being looked at. “What’s wrong?”

Rin stares at him for almost an eternity. Green eyes shift, looking for something he can’t place, cogs in his mind turning as he tries to come to a conclusion.

“Yer fuckin’... pretty. Are we married yet?”

The question has him gaping. Rin is examining him with every twitch of his pupils, like he’s some science experiment he’s trying to get all the details of, and he doesn’t really know what else to do but stand there, at first, but he knows that sooner or later he’ll have to answer.

He clears his throat and adjusts the way he’s holding Rin so he doesn’t drop him, because there’s no way he’s going to be able to hold himself up right now, so he makes his back rest against the island.

“Uh, no. We’re not.” Rin looks betrayed, shocked, and disgusted all at the same time.

“The hell?! Marry me right now!” This makes him laugh because he never thought he’d be this forward about it. “The fuck are you laughin’ for, ‘m serious, arsehole! We should be married already why the fuck haven’ ya asked me yet?”

“Was gonna ask ya on the anniversary of the time we beat Karasuno in Nationals, but ya know. ‘Tsumu got me drunk and I had t’ postpone.”

It’s Rin’s turn to gape now, before it morphs into something that makes it look like he’s about to cry, and Osamu really cannot deal with a crying Rintarō right now.

“‘Samu, has anyone ever told you yer the most romantic person on the planet?” He laughs.

“Yeah, ya have. Plenty of times, actually.”

“An’ I’ll fuckin’ say it again. ‘Cause I love ya. An’ yer the most romantic person on the planet. But also I’m still angry that we’re not married.”

“Well. Then I guess ya hafta plan a weddin’, don’tchya?” Rin smirks back at him, satisfied with the answer, and pulls Osamu into a kiss that’s a little sloppy and lacking balance but full of love all the same.

“Guess I do. But first—” he moves his lips to Osamu’s ear “—I wanna ride ya.”

“Yer drunk. Not happening.” Rin raises an eyebrow, and then moves out of Osamu’s grip, not stumbling even a little as he straightens up, walks towards the corridor, and folds his arms over his chest.

“Am I? I don’t know, I think those showers work better than you think they do. So, what’s it gonna be, ‘Samu? You can’t just leave your groom-to-be with blue balls on his birthday.”

Stripped of his Kansai dialect, Osamu realises far too slowly that he’s been duped. He wonders just how long Rin was playing drunk at to get him here and when exactly in the night he messed up by not keeping an eye on him.

The thing is, though, that the shirt Rin is wearing is way too short considering he’s six foot something now (and counting), so when he keeps on walking, too smug for his own good, it’s hard not to notice the way it rides up and exposes just what Rin was hoping it would.

 _Not the only thing that’s hard_ , Osamu thinks, and mentally smacks himself, because now he knows he’s definitely a goner.

The moment he steps into the bedroom he’s pulled in by the front of his shirt into a kiss so strong it could bruise, Rin apparently getting more sober by the second, and he’s starting to regret being a kind and benevolent boyfriend because he’s not feeling very in charge of what’s happening right now.

“How long have ya been playin’ me?” Rin smiles against the kiss, like he’s won at life.

“You left me and ‘Tsumu alone. Bad call.” Osamu screams at himself. “Get a few shots of bourbon in that guy and he gives in faster than a roof during an earthquake.”

“Shit.”

“I really do think the proposal plan was romantic, but you took too long. At some point, you have to take matters into your own hands,” says Rin, and with that he puts his hand down Osamu’s boxers and wraps it around him, grinning.

“Puns are the lowest form of comedy,” deadpans Osamu, and Rin looks at him quizzically.

“When did you start hanging out with Ushiwaka?” The question doesn’t really require an answer, and opts not to give on anyway, instead pushes Rin down on the bed with a kiss and lets his hands roam freely.

Rare is it for Rin to so eagerly let Osamu set the pace, keener on being in control whether he’s being fucked or is doing the fucking, but he recognises that he’s trying, like he’s apologising for the nasty trick he pulled.

However, he’s not rid of the alcohol completely, and so he’s not entirely pleased with Osamu’s long and slow kisses all over his thighs, foreplay the last thing he needs.

He thinks the Gods have answered his prayers when Osamu finally reaches for the lube, only to have those answered prayers thrown out the window when he doesn’t open the bottle, just kisses him good and hard, stroking him gently.

“C’mon ‘Samu, don’t you want me sitting on top of you, looking like a heaven-sent angel?” he says, inhaling sharply at the turns of his wrist.

“Oh, yer anything but an angel,” retorts Osamu, pulling at the skin of his collarbone, leaving proud red teeth marks. “So ‘m gonna have some fun with ya first.”

It is his birthday, which is the only reason he isn't going to drag it out forever, but there’s great care in the way his tongue works at Rin’s dick, hand holding his hips down so he can’t buck them up into his mouth and finish faster, because Osamu isn’t going for finishing — he’s going for torture, and all Rin can do is lie there and take it.

Bad news is that even though he thinks he can get away with not warning Osamu with when he’s close, but the tell-tale signs are already things Osamu knows well after all these years, so every time he’s on the brink of an orgasm Osamu pulls away, wiping the spit from the corner of his mouth.

It’s only by the fifth time after pulling away that a lubed finger presses its way forward, making Rin throw his head back in surprise and gratefulness, finally making some headway.

“ _Fuck_ , ‘Samu, more, c’mon, _more_.” He obliges slowly, presses a second finger in, catching Rin’s lips in his so he can taste all the moans he’s not able to suppress.

“Ya even gonna have the strength t’ hold yerself up after this?” He’s really pushing it now, and his distractedness gives Rin the opportunity to force his hips down further as a silent answer of _of course I am_.

So, he pulls him up by the back of the neck and flips their positions, his back against the headboard as he works a third and final finger in. His voice rasps as he starts to feel the burn of the stretch mixed with the cold of the lube, but when he’s rocking back and forth and begging for more stimulation in a place Osamu’s fingers don’t necessarily reach, he takes mercy on him and takes his fingers out, rolls a condom on faster than would have been possible once.

The kiss as Rin goes down is sloppy and open-mouthed, a whimper hidden somewhere in there, and for a moment Osamu is worried he’s hurt him, but then he sees how pretty he looks like this and bucks his hips up without a second thought, revelling in the way Rin’s eyes shut and his head goes back, hands resting tightly on Osamu’s chest.

“Bastard. Give me a few, would you?” he mutters, but starts moving at the same time, rising about halfway before going back down, getting used to the sensation.

And it really is a pretty sight because Rin has always known just how to use his upper body together with his thighs, and he secretly wishes he could film him like this, giving up control in such a simple way.

He knows Osamu isn’t going to help him out right now, doesn’t want him to anyway, which means every time he comes back down, he makes sure to get the full experience. What Osamu does instead is go for the unmarked expanse of his chest, mouth on his nipples, teeth tugging to hear those wonderful sharp intakes of breath.

Every thrust drives home, the pace picks up, and the moment Rin’s arms find the back of Osamu’s neck, he knows he’s asking him to take over, and he moves his hips as harshly as he can, swallowing the groan Rin can’t help but let out.

His hand wraps around him and tugs, slowly but sharply, thumb teasing across his slit, and then Rin’s forehead crashes against Osamu’s and there’s the smallest _please_ in existence.

He teased him earlier. Now it’s about making sure he gets the maxim pleasure despite the denial he had to endure, so with well-aimed thrusts against his prostate and a wrist that knows just how to move, Rin comes just before Osamu, blabbering, “Thank God oh Christ fuck I love you fuck fuck fuck.”

He can’t help laughing a little bit at the fact that he’s such a mess from tipsy sex, but he’s careful when he pulls out and goes to the bathroom to get a wet cloth so they don’t have to sleep covered in anything sticky. A shower right now is probably out of the question, but at least the sheets aren’t ridiculously sweaty, so it’s easy enough to clean up and let Rin hook an arm and a leg over his body.

“So, this weddin’ thing,” Osamu starts, opening the bedside drawer again and opening up a hidden compartment. He opens the small black box, reveals the silver band inside, and looks expectantly at Rin like he’s in any shape to answer.

“I wanna get married. Late summer? Before the training for the new season picks up again?”

He takes the band out, slides it on his finger, and admires the way it shines in the moonlight. It fits, but it doesn’t feel right that Osamu doesn’t have one too, so he put it back and close the box.

“Don’tchya wanna wear it?” He shakes his head.

“Not until we get you one too. We have to make sure everybody knows you’re mine.” It’s a silly sentiment really. But it helps them fall asleep better.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> [my ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/erissapphic)


End file.
